love, written and rewritten by lydia martin
by crierwolf
Summary: Lydia doesn't know a lot about love. She figured a long time ago that she'd just make it up as she goes along.


**disclaimer**: own nothing.

**notes: **unbeta'd because i wrote this at three am whilst sleep deprived and ingesting caffeine so if it sucks then i am so so sorry

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If Lydia Martin were to ever write a book about love, the first chapter would say to never fall prey to it, because sometimes the hurt that comes with it is worth less than the happiness it brings. Lydia thinks that's why her parents never told her what love is, because they didn't know what it was either, because their version of love didn't work for them and gave them nothing short of anger and hurt.

Maybe they never told her about love because they wanted to spare her the pain.

Lydia fell in love with Jackson Whittemore in between dance steps. It was in the days before he cared more about his reputation than his relationship, when words were more than empty promises and stinging insults, the days where they would laugh without it being fake or for show. It was in freshmen year, they were in his house, and he asked her to dance. It was a weird and horrible clash of the waltz and the Cha Cha Slide, they were both laughing hard and stepped on each other's toes because of it, and Lydia fell in love.

She remembers that moment clearly, the same way she remembers being a kid and loving her dad more than anything in the world, before he and her mother fought more than they talked and looked at each other without the intention of glaring a hole through each other's skulls. The same way she remembers telling Allison that she was her new best friend, before she knew how important and how close to her heart the other girl would soon become. The same way she remembers her mom teaching her how to dance by letting Lydia step on her toes and spinning her around the living room, like how she remembers reading her first book and how she hid under the covers with a flashlight because she wouldn't put it down for even a second. And how she remembers Jackson giving her the key to his home and how she felt so happy in that moment she felt she might burst. She remembers holding that same key in front of him in that warehouse, her heart beating faster than it ever has, and feeling so much relief and love for him in the moment he muttered "do you still?" and swept her up in his arms when she said yes.

They're precious things, held close to her heart. When she remembers all of the shitty moments in her life, and how they sometimes far outweigh the good, she opens up that box and lets herself relish in the memories.

If Lydia Martin were to ever write a book about love, half of the pages would be blank, because there are so many things she doesn't know, and what she does know she doesn't think she could put into words.

When she thinks of love, she thinks of her mother, strong and beautiful and smart as they come. She thinks of Allison, the person she knows how to love without qualm or question, who knows Lydia better than she knows herself. She thinks of Scott, of how much he loves Allison, of everything he's done for her and will continue to do, who believes in fate and destiny and believes that he and Allison are meant to be. She thinks of Derek, who is broken in every way a person can be, who loves his pack in the fierce way he has. She thinks of Jackson, her first love, who loved her and showed it when in mattered the most.

She doesn't know much about love, but she knows she feels it the most when she's with Stiles.

Stiles Stilinski, the boy who talks more than he breathes, who doesn't ever stop moving, no matter it be flailing arms or twitching in his seat, who fooled himself into thinking he's in love with her in the third grade, and how he kept fooling himself and convincing himself it was real, even when he didn't even know her, who told her his first name in one of his rants and how she's the only one who can actually pronounce it, who grew his hair out because he forgot to get it buzzed and Lydia told him it looked good longer. He smiles at her and winks at her and does his own version of flirting, which mostly includes telling her terrible jokes and expecting her not to roll her eyes, who used to want to impress her but now mostly wants to make her laugh. Lydia thinks that Stiles is beautiful, in the most unconventional way possible. Lydia thinks that of all the people she's met, Stiles glows the brightest. She thinks that of all the people she's met, Stiles is the most beautiful.

If Lydia Martin were to ever write a book about love, she would delete the first chapter and replace it with another one that says no matter how bad things get, the good will always drown them out. That's something her parents never taught her, because they never saw the good things and only paid attention to the things that went wrong. It will say to find a person who will hold you through the bad things and would be there with you through all the good.

She thinks of when her dad first walked away, and how her mother cried and tried to hide it under make up and smiles that held no happiness, of how she crawled into her mom's bed in the night because she heard muffled sobs, and how Lydia wrapped her arms around her and closed her eyes so she could hold back the tears that threatened to escape. She thinks of that night in the warehouse and how Jackson held her, like she was something special and irreplaceable, and how he hadn't held her like that in a long, long time. She thinks of Allison holding her and letting Lydia cry into her shoulder when she found out that Jackson was leaving and most likely never coming back. She thinks of the story Derek told them, how his eyes became blue and how he lost his first love, how he held Paige in his arms and how he felt the life leave her, and she grew heavy and stopped breathing and he didn't let her go until he wasn't allowed to hold her anymore. She thinks of Scott and Allison and how he almost lost her in that fight, of how he held her in his arms and how he thought he was going to lose her, of how he held her close as she told him that she would never stopped loving him, how he couldn't take her pain, but they saved her and he held her again and again until he was sure she wouldn't disappear. She thinks of Stiles, lifeless under her arms, of him waking up and holding her hand tightly with all the strength he could muster because they survived another twist life threw at them and they almost lost Allison and she almost lost him so she took his hand and he held on tightly and they stayed like that for as long as they could.

If Lydia Martin were to ever write a book about love, it would say that when you find someone who holds you in both the bad times and the good, hold them back and never let go.

She doesn't know a lot about love, because she's just making it up as she goes, but she knows moments, and she knows the moments that she keeps close to her heart and she knows the love she feels in each and every one of them. She doesn't know a lot about love, but she knows the exact moment she falls in love, and she knows it well.

Lydia fell in love with Jackson Whittemore in between dance steps.

She falls in love with Stiles Stilinski in between words and in the middle of a story. They are in a story themselves, a story of wolves and foxes and hunters and banshees, but she falls in love with Stiles while he is telling her his own.

They're in Stiles' room, and Lydia finds herself spending more time in that room than she ever thought she would, she's spending more time with _Stiles_ than she ever thought she would, and Lydia could give a million excuses about how their best friends spend more time with each other than either of them so they follow their lead and spent time with each other, or how Stiles is the only person free in their pack, but she won't, because the thing is, Lydia is spending more and more time with Stiles because she wants to be around him more than she's ever wanted anything else.

They're in Stiles' room, sitting on the floor with their backs against the side of his bed, and he's telling her a story and she's listening to him talk and it somehow becomes him telling her how he fell in love with her.

"We were in third grade." Stiles laughs when Lydia tries to interrupt. "Yes, third grade, okay? Shh. So, I was entranced by your beauty and grace and intelligence and all that, but that wasn't the moment, it really wasn't. It was like two days after I first saw you, and I was with Scott—hey don't try to interrupt I'm trying to tell you how I fell in love with you have some respect—and you were in the hallway talking to Danny and you laughed. You laughed and you sounded so happy and carefree and I haven't seen you like that before and you looked beautiful when you laughed and I fell in love. I chased after you and tried to make you notice me because I wanted to see if I could make you laugh like that again."

Lydia looks at him, and he smiles at her, in the soft way Stiles never really knew how to be, and that smile grows bigger and brighter and more alive and Lydia grins back. She lowers her head into his shoulder and he leans his head against hers and she knows that they're both still smiling.

Lydia feels something blossom in her chest, growing and growing and she thinks that Stiles got under her skin and stayed there without any intention of ever leaving and she knows that this is the moment.

She whispers to him, "Tell me a story."

So he does.

If Lydia Martin were to ever write a book about love, she would scrap all the pages and delete every word because love doesn't need reason or rules, because every love is special and unique and she knows that more than anyone, because love is something that you have to learn for yourself, because she can't put into words the amount of it she has felt in her entire life, and she knows that she didn't know what love was because no one ever taught her, but she knows now and she doesn't plan on letting him go.


End file.
